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'Boast not my fall!' he cried, 'insulting foe!
Thou by some other shalt be laid as low!
Nor think, to die dejects my lofty mind!
All that I dread is leaving you behind !
Rather than so, ah! let me still survive,
And burn in Cupid's flames : but burn alive!'

• Restore the Lock!' she cries; and all around • Restore the Lock!' the vaulted roofs rebound. Not fierce OTHELLO, in so loud a strain, Roared for the handkerchief that caused his pain!

But see how oft ambitious aims are crossed; And Chiefs contend till all the prize is lost! The Lock, obtained with guilt, and kept with pain, In ev'ry place is sought; but sought in vain! With such a prize no mortal must be blest ! So Heaven decrees! With Heaven, who can contest?

Some thought it mounted to the Lunar Sphere, 1 Since all things lost on Earth are treasured there. There, Heroes' wits are kept in pond'rous vases; And Beaus', in snuff-boxes and tweezer cases. There, broken vows and death-bed alms are found; And Lovers' hearts with ends of ribband bound. The Courtier's promises, the Sick Man's prayers, The smiles of Harlots, and the tears of Heirs. Cages for gnats, and chains to yoke a flea; Dried butterflies, and tomes of Casuistry.

1 Vide Ariosto, [Orlando furioso), Canto XXXIV.

But trust the Muse! She saw it upward rise;
Though marked by none but quick poetic eyes!
(So Rome's great Founder to the Heavens withdrew;
To PROCULLUS alone confessed in view !)

A sudden star, it shot through liquid air;
And drew behind a radiant trail of hair !
Not BERENICE's locks first rose so bright;
The heavens bespangling with dishevelled light.

The Sylphs behold it, kindling, as it flies;
And, pleased, pursue its progress through the skies.

This, the Beau Monde shall from the Mall survey; And hail, with music, its propitious ray!

This, the blessed Lover shall, for Venus take; And send up vows from Rosamonda's Lake ! This, PARTRIDGE soon shall view in cloudless skies, When next he looks through GALILEO's eyes; And hence, th' egregious Wizard shall foredoom The fate of Louis, and the fall of Rome.

Then, cease, bright Nymph! to mourn the ravished Which adds new glory to the shining Sphere! [hair; Not all the tresses that fair head can boast, Shall draw such envy as the Lock you lost !

For, after all the murders of your eye, When, after millions slain, yourself shall die; When those fair suns shall set, as set they must! And all those tresses shall be laid in dust: This Lock, the Muse shall consecrate to Fame, And, 'midst the stars, inscribe BELINDA's name!

THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL.

[The earlier form of this imitation of the Emperor HADRIAN's Animula, vagula, blandula, was written in 17 and first printed in 1730. The present is the revised text of 1736. It is thought that POPE was somewhat indebted to the poem of FLATMAN which will be found in Volume VI. 293 of this Series.]

VITAL spark of heav'nly flame;
Quit, O, quit this mortal frame !
Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying;
O, the pain, the bliss, of dying !
Cease, fond Nature ! cease thy strife;
And let me languish into life!

Hark! they whisper! Angels say,
'Sister Spirit ! come away!'
What is this absorbs me quite,
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath ?
Tell me, my soul! Can this be death?

The world recedes ! It disappears!
Heaven opens on my eyes! My ears

With sounds seraphic ring!
Lend, lend your wings ! I mount! I fly!
O, Grave! where is thy victory ?

O, Death! where is thy sting ?

HERE 's a Health to the Queen, and a lasting Peace! To faction an end, to wealth increase ! Come, let 's drink it, while we have breath; For there 's no drinking after death! And he that will this Health deny, Down among the dead men [empty bottles] let him lie!

Let charming Beauty's Health go round!
In whom celestial joys are found:
And may confusion still pursue
The senseless woman-hating crew!
And they that Woman's Health deny,
Down among the dead men let them lie!

In smiling Bacchus' joys I'll roll!
Deny no pleasure to my soul!
Let Bacchus' Health round briskly move;
For BACCHUS is a friend to Love !
And he that will his Health deny,
Down among the dead men let him lie!

May Love and Wine, their rites maintain;
And their united pleasures reign !
While Bacchus' treasure crowns the board ;
We'll sing the joys that both afford !
And they that won't with us comply,
Down among the dead men let them lie!

A LETTER FROM ITALY

TO THE Rt. Hon. CHARLES MONTAGU, LORD HALIFAX,

1701.

Salve magna parens frugum Saturnia tellus,
Magna Virum ! tibi res antiqua laudis et artis
Aggredior, sanctos ausus recludere fontes.

VIRGIL, Georgics, II.

WHILE you, my Lord! the rural shades admire, And from BRITANNIA's Public Posts retire; Nor longer, her ungrateful sons to please, For their advantage, sacrifice your ease : Me into foreign realms my fate conveys, Through nations fruitful of immortal Lays; Where the soft season and inviting clime Conspire to trouble your repose with rhyme.

For wheresoe'er I turn my ravished eyes, Gay gilded scenes and shining prospects rise !

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